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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429821">falling to the bathroom floor</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoon33/pseuds/tinymark'>tinymark (lumoon33)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>markhyuck week 2021 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Making Out, Markhyuck week 2021, Pining, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Romantic Tension, alcohol and weed, day 5: touch | passion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumoon33/pseuds/tinymark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark waits like that, his cloudy eyes staring up into the light bulb of the bathroom until he feels the threatening prickle of tears. Then, he slides his gaze down to the closed door, blinking fireworks away as he waits for Donghyuck to materialize there, like an explosion taken right out of Mark's imagination, like a walking night terror.</p><p>And Donghyuck does.</p><p>(or: drunk sad boys making out)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>markhyuck week 2021 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Markhyuck Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>falling to the bathroom floor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic has been inspired by all time low's stella!</p><p>hope you guys like it &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's just one more summer night.</p><p>Mark has been here so many times during the past three months that there's something almost comforting about the upstairs bathroom in Jaemin's house. As he runs his fingers through the creases between the white tiles, gathering the dirt there under his nails, he distantly wonders if a sober version of himself would be disgusted by this. But now, with alcohol simmering softly under his skin, everything is pleasantly blurred around the edges.</p><p>The hard, cold ceramic of the tiles is digging into the bottom of his spine, his shoulder blades pushed against the wall of the bathtub painfully, and his neck is growing numb for being twisted in a weird angle for too long, hanging over the edge of the tub. But it's comfortable, in a way.</p><p>It's the familiarity of it all that makes it comfortable, the sense of <em> deja vu </em>after the countless nights he has ended up here.</p><p>There’s music playing downstairs, so loud that it causes the floor and the walls to bump like a frantic heartbeat. It's like someone is trying to force the room to curl into itself, pushing at the walls in an attempt at folding them into themselves, trapping Mark inside. He doesn't dislike the thought of getting trapped in here forever, it seems more like a hug than a prison to his foggy mind.</p><p>That's the pleasant part of the numbness alcohol always brings him: it allows him to think of everything in a positive way. Alcohol bends every sharp edge into a smooth line, everything becomes way too soft to be able to scratch him, hurt him.</p><p>Everything, but not everyone, Mark thinks as he blinks his bleary eyes under the white light bulb. He likes to look directly into it when he's drunk, it's the only time he can handle the sting long enough to see blurry fireworks exploding behind his eyelids, like a private party.</p><p>He waits like that, his cloudy eyes staring up into the light until he feels the threatening prickle of tears. Then, he slides his gaze down to the closed door, blinking fireworks away as he waits for Donghyuck to materialize there, like an explosion taken right out of Mark's imagination, like a walking night terror.</p><p>And he does.</p><p>Mark has already lost count of the times he's blinked up at the light and back down when Donghyuck bursts into the bathroom, kicking the door open harshly as he shoulders his way into Mark’s mind through his dizziness. He walks in with clumsy feet, swaying on his weak knees, but still looking as beautiful and inevitable as ever.</p><p>"There you are," he says with a smirk so sharp that not even alcohol can smooth it out. He cuts into Mark's fogginess like lightning, demanding all the attention Mark's drunken mind can muster. "Been walkin’ round in circles all night lookin’ for you."</p><p>Mark rolls his head over the side of the bathtub, the edge of it digging painfully into the back of his skull as he looks up at Donghyuck through half-lidded eyes. A grunt is the only response he can offer, stretching his heavy arms to make grabby hands at Donghyuck. He catches himself thinking once again that his sober self would hate this entire situation, but he's far too gone to even remember what being sober feels like.</p><p>"You got shitfaced without me," Donghyuck says with exaggerated hurt, kicking the door closed with his heel so he can keep his eyes focused on Mark. He twists his mouth in fake offense, even though his words are coming out rushed and blurry and high-pitched, the way he always sounds when he's been drinking for hours. "You hurt me, Mark," he singsongs, shaking his head, his dirty, blond hair falling gently over his forehead.</p><p>"C’mere," Mark finally manages to push the word past his lips, his tongue heavy and thick inside  of his mouth, tasting of a stale mix of drinks he can't even remember the names of.</p><p>Donghyuck doesn't rush to him—he never gives in to Mark's whims as fast as Mark gives in to Donghyuck’s—but he does walk closer, a pink bottle dangling from one of his clumsy hands, a lit-up joint between the loose fingers of the other. He's dragging his feet over the tiles towards Mark, the rubber of his sneakers screeching uglily against the floor. Mark frowns at the noise, frowns at the fact that Donghyuck managed to sneak into the house with his shoes on, frowns at the dirty footprints he's leaving behind and finds himself wishing they will still be there the next time they find themselves here. Because there's always gonna be a next time.</p><p>"Drink," Donghyuck commands when he's close enough, placing one of his sneakers between Mark's outstretched legs, so close that the tip rubs against Mark's crotch. He's offering Mark the pink glass bottle, hanging from the tip of his fingers dangerously, swaying in front of Mark's eyes. "C'mon, 's good."</p><p>Mark follows the movement of the bottle with his unfocused eyes, looks at Donghyuck's slender fingers wrapped around the neck of it, and wonders how they'd feel wrapped around Mark's neck, around his wrists, around his dick.</p><p>He opens and closes his dry lips, sucks onto his own pasty tongue, swallowing on nothing. His mouth tastes sour and rusty, the bite of the countless cheap drinks he’s chugged down earlier still sticking to the insides of his cheeks, between his teeth. He isn't sure if he wants to add another beverage to the blend, but Donghyuck is staring down at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes and blown-out pupils, back-lit by the soft white light bulb, his mouth half-open as he stares at Mark in expectation. His lips look just as pink and shiny as the bottle, Mark notes, and he wonders if he will taste the same, too. Donghyuck always manages to taste different every time they meet, always manages to feel like a new fever dream.</p><p>So Mark wraps his clumsy fingers around Donghyuck's wrist to tug the bottle closer to his lips, his pads digging into the thin bones as Donghyuck pushes the bottle towards Mark's mouth. They are both drunk and clumsy, so they move harsher than necessary, the glass knocking against Mark's front teeth awkwardly before he manages to slot his lips around the bottle.</p><p>He drinks greedily, encouraged by Donghyuck's eyes, hot on his neck as he swallows down the overly sweet liquid. Donghyuck keeps pushing eagerly, staring at Mark with unblinking eyes as the alcohol sneaks past the seam of his mouth and dribbles down his chin, dripping cold and sticky down his neck and wetting the front of his shirt.</p><p>Mark drinks until he feels the need to cough. He pushes the bottle and Donghyuck's hand away, bending forward a little as he tries to regain his breathing. Donghyuck stumbles backward with the force of Mark's shove, his sneakers screeching jarringly once again.</p><p>"You're so unsexy, man," Donghyuck giggles, swaying on his feet as he moves even closer, close enough to flop down on the floor next to Mark.</p><p>He sits down unceremoniously, his gawky limbs knocking against Mark in all the wrong ways, but sparking the same heat they always do. It's only then, once Donghyuck is comfortably sat down beside him, that Mark can finally look at him properly.</p><p>Awe is another familiar thing about these summer nights. Mark can't help but feel awed at the way Donghyuck seems to sharpen his senses. Everything around them stays blurred and muted, half-painted like a dream. But Donghyuck is as clear and loud as a thunderstorm, razor-sharp in all his edges, words and curves, smiling like a lightning bolt. He's tangible and real and summer-hot, as present as he is impossible, as pretty as he is dangerous.</p><p>"Aw, man," Donghyuck groans, frowning down at himself, at the ash stains on his white tank top. "Been with you for a second and it’s already messy," he talks with a pout in his plump, pink lips.</p><p>The bottle squeaks against the floor when Donghyuck puts it down so he can dust himself with the hand that isn't holding the half-consumed joint. His palm is sticky with alcohol, though, and he just ends up making a bigger mess, pursing his lips in an even more exaggerated pout. God, Mark wants to bite him.</p><p>Mark doesn't say anything, too busy running his eyes all over Donghyuck's profile, getting caught in the pretty slope of his nose, in the maddening flush of his cheeks, in the wicked twist of his mouth. He looks like a dream, always looks like a dream, alcohol-induced and imaginary. But Mark knows better.</p><p>His eyes keep sliding down, taking in the edge of Donghyuck's jaw, the line of his throat. It feels like getting electrocuted, the scattered teeth marks on Donghyuck's tanned neck, the blooming bruises that signal a path down his chest, getting lost under the white of his tank top.</p><p>Mark is used to it, truly. He's used to seeing someone else's traces all over Donghyuck's golden skin, overlapping with his own. It feels like a wicked game he keeps losing, as if he's in a constant battle against faceless monsters he will never be able to defeat. Mark knows he will never get the price, knows too well that this has been a lost war from the start, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Doesn't stop him from wanting.</p><p>That's why he grabs at Donghyuck's shoulder a little too roughly, his thumb digging into a foreign purple mark there, trying to rub it off with his pad as he leans closer. He attaches himself to the side of Donghyuck's neck, mouthing right under his jaw, smearing the alcohol that’s still dripping down his chin all over Donghyuck. He presses his tongue flat against the salty skin, Donghyuck's pulse jumping slow and steady under Mark's lips as if he's not interesting enough to even deserve a skip.</p><p>"God, you're so—" Donghyuck growls, his throat vibrating right under Mark's tongue. He never completes the sentence, he just sneaks his arm around Mark's shoulders and pushes him closer, fingers sliding up his neck until they are raking through his black hair. Donghyuck fists the strands to press Mark’s hungry mouth harder against the skin of his neck.</p><p><em> So what? </em> Mark wants to ask. <em> So greedy, so desperate, so nasty, </em> Donghyuck would say. Those are the words he always uses with Mark. And he is damn right. Mark is always so, so, <em> so</em>. He always wants too much, too much, too much. And he's never satisfied.</p><p>"Shit, hang on," Donghyuck groans, his fingers twisting painfully into Mark's hair, nails scratching his scalp as he tugs him away from his neck. "So eager, aren't you?" he giggles, mouth twisted in that dangerous smirk of his. “Gettin’ me all wet ‘nd nasty.”</p><p>Mark can't help the whine that falls from his lips, his clammy hands gripping at Donghyuck's tank top, over his waist. He flops his forehead on Donghyuck's shoulder, their skins sticking together with sweat in the heat of the summer night. He breathes him in, the intoxicating mix of alcohol and sunlight and someone else's cologne, someone who isn't Mark.</p><p>He turns his head lazily, keeps his cheek pressed against Donghyuck's shoulder and his eyes closed. There’s music is still blasting downstairs, the floor vibrating with it, but Mark tunes it out to focus on the sound of Donghyuck taking a long drag of his joint, the faint sound of the blunt burning, Donghyuck's lips sucking into it.</p><p>Then, there are warm, sticky fingers tapping at Mark's jaw, curling around his chin to force his head up. Mark keeps his eyes closed as Donghyuck digs his thumb into the deep under his lower lip, forcing his mouth open. Maybe forcing isn't the word, Mark thinks as he opens up pliantly under the pressure of Donghyuck's fingers, not when he's always so willing to bare himself for Donghyuck that it borders pathetic.</p><p>The heat of Donghyuck's mouth ghosts over Mark's lips, but the real contact never happens. Mark is whining again, desperate for more in the fog of his mind, too high to care about how needy he sounds. Alcohol always turns him into a sweaty mess, makes him go incredibly tender, craving warmth and touch and <em> love</em>.</p><p>Mark knows better. He knows this is far away from love. But the electrifying lust and a fever dream of a boy are more than good enough to convince his drunken mind that he is falling in love tonight. Every night.</p><p>Donghyuck's lips stay hovering over Mark's as he blows smoke into his mouth, and Mark eagerly breathes it in and imagines Donghyuck's breath slipping into his lungs, settling there and curling around his ribs like a vine.</p><p>Mark groans when Donghyuck releases the grip he has on his chin to curl his fingers around Mark's nape, his nails digging there painfully. He hopes Donghyuck is squeezing hard enough to break the skin, even though he knows his future sober self will grow to despise the scars. He can't bring himself to care right now, not when Donghyuck is pulling him in, in, in, his tongue sliding into Mark's mouth, licking behind his teeth, along the seam of his lips, gliding against Mark's own.</p><p>Donghyuck tastes as sickeningly sweet as the pink drink he offered Mark earlier. He claws at the skin of Mark's nape as he kisses his lips numb, clumsy and painfully because alcohol turns him rough and careless and hard, the total opposite of Mark. While Donghyuck wants sharp teeth and nails like claws, grip so tight that it blooms purple, Mark craves gentle fingers and feather-soft kisses and tender words. But Mark will push aside his neediness and give Donghyuck everything he wishes for open-handed, no questions, always willing to accept whatever Donghyuck is kind enough to offer.</p><p>Mark looks at him through hooded eyes when Donghyuck pulls away. He only pulls away enough to push at Mark's shoulders, though. He pushes hard until Mark's shoulder blades dig painfully against the tub, his neck twisting awkwardly over the edge one more time as Donghyuck climbs on his lap. Donghyuck is smiling sharply, eyes gleaming with that edge of madness alcohol always gives him, teeth bared down at Mark as if he wants to chew him whole.</p><p>And Mark, Mark just wishes Donghyuck was sober so he could finally discover what he tastes like without the stale remnants of who knows how many different drinks he’s taken tonight. Mark wishes he himself was sober enough to be able to recall this feeling in the morning, so he can stop himself from coming back here week after week, falling into the same endless loop again and again, like a kid who doesn't know better.</p><p>But he's not sober, and alcohol turns him clingy and naive, convinces him that someone could fall in love with him after a couple of drunk kisses. So Mark slips his fingers into the holes of Donghyuck's tank top and lets himself be kissed hard enough to bruise.</p><p>Donghyuck kisses like a battlefield, nipping at Mark's lips as if he wants to devour him whole, as if he wants to carve his name into his skin so everyone else who comes after him can know he got here first, can know that he owned Mark first. And Mark hates his intoxicated mind for doubting if he'll ever belong to someone else.</p><p>Mark keeps clawing at the sweaty skin of Donghyuck's back, stretching the fabric of his tank top as he tries to reach everywhere at once, his nails dragging over Donghyuck's body deep enough to leave red trails behind, as if he’s trying to reach inside. And Donghyuck whimpers into his mouth, because this is just the way he likes it, rough enough to sting, careless enough to scar. And Mark wants to remind him that no one else can give it to him better than Mark himself.</p><p>Donghyuck is already hard against Mark's thigh, heavy and hot. He grinds down in Mark's lap, tonguing at his chin, licking the alcohol stains off of Mark’s pale skin before he’s throwing his head back. Mark moves from his lips down to Donghyuck’s neck, covering every single one of the foreign bruises on the tan skin with the shape of his own mouth.</p><p>"Yeah, Mark," Donghyuck groans, his hands flying from Mark's shoulders to his head, pressing his face harder into his neck, as if he's just as desperate for Mark to etch himself into his skin. "C'mon."</p><p>"Could do this everyday, y'know?" Mark whispers, his lips catching in the dip between Donghyuck's collarbones as he speaks. He digs his tongue there, licks his way up to the underside of Donghyuck's chin just because he can. "You just gotta ask."</p><p>"What you talkin' about?" Donghyuck asks, but it comes out as a breathless moan, his hips stuttering on Mark's lap.</p><p>"This," Mark says, his teeth sinking into Donghyuck's chin as an answer, hands sliding down his back and all the way to his ass, fingertips digging harshly into the soft flesh there to make a point. "Could be yours like this. Everyday. All the time. You don't need anyone else."</p><p>Donghyuck groans again, and it's more of an annoyed growl than a moan of pleasure, but he doesn't pull away. He grinds faster against Mark, throwing his head back to bare more of his skin, giving Mark more access to paint him red and purple all over.</p><p>"You're drunk," Donghyuck chokes out, his Adam's apple bobbing under Mark's mouth as he swallows on nothing. "You don't know what you're sayin’."</p><p>"They say drunk people always tell the truth," Mark retaliates.</p><p>He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. He blames it on the alcohol, too, because it makes him lose the little filter he has, desperate to hold onto something warm that doesn't even exist between them, something sweet he desperately wants to share with someone.</p><p>Donghyuck goes still in the circle of Mark's arms. He huffs annoyed, pushing at Mark's shoulders to try to free himself.</p><p>"Drunk people say stupid shit," he mumbles, sliding out of Mark's grip to flop down on the floor beside him one more time. "We're havin’ fun. Why d’you always gotta make it difficult?" he grunts, running his hand through his hair. He tugs at his pants with the other, his dick straining the front, so hard that Mark could trace its shape through the fabric.</p><p>Donghyuck’s hair has grown out so much, Mark notes. He can't help himself, he reaches out to run his own hand through it, curling his fingers into the strands, damp and dirty with sweat. He tugs at it, hard enough to force Donghyuck to gift him another one of his beautiful moans. They would work so well together. Mark doesn't know if it's the alcohol through his veins or just the sight of Donghyuck—flushed red and panting, bruised all over his neck—but the idea of them together seems everything but difficult to him.</p><p>"I can be good to you," he mumbles, placing his other hand on Donghyuck's thigh. "Can be the best for you." And Donghyuck is always so ready for him, his legs spreading open as Mark runs his fingers up the inside of his thigh.</p><p>Mark wonders if he truly is inside of a dream this time because, for a second, Donghyuck looks at him with shiny eyes, his lower lip trapped between his teeth, his eyebrows lowered on his forehead as if he's shy. He looks like he's about to give in. About to give up.</p><p>It is gone in the blink of an eye, though. Mark closes his eyes once, and Donghyuck is snapping his legs together, curling his hand around the edge of the bathtub to push himself up and away from Mark.</p><p>"No, wait," Mark whispers, his voice almost gone, hands desperately lapping over Donghyuck's waist one more time. "Stay. It doesn't have to mean anything. Just. Stay."</p><p>"'m not gonna sleep on the fuckin' bathroom floor, Mark Lee," Donghyuck bites back, peeling Mark's hands away from his body and finally pushing himself to his feet. "Not matter how good of a fuck you are."</p><p>Mark can't even get mad at him, because he should've known better. He's always ruining their nights like this, earlier and faster each day that goes by. He’s getting way too greedy, asking for more than what he's allowed to have.</p><p>Donghyuck is still standing there, swaying on his weak legs, looking down at Mark with an expression that's too complicated for Mark's drunken mind to read. He looks more like a dream than ever, swollen lips and red cheeks and messy hair. He looks more like a nightmare than ever, haunting and sharp and unattainable. And Mark wants nothing else but to have him.</p><p>"Take me home, then," Mark blurts out, oh-so-greedy, so desperate, so nasty.</p><p>Donghyuck giggles, a soft, lilting thing that will stay with Mark all night. "'m not your fuckin' babysitter."</p><p>Mark is tired and out of moves. He hangs his head over the edge of the bathtub again and stares at the white light bulb, wonders how it is possible to feel so empty-handed and heavy-hearted at the same time. He wishes alcohol had the power to blurry and soften Donghyuck the way it seems to soften everything else.</p><p>And he could handle it if Donghyuck just walked out of the bathroom without looking back. But even if Mark doesn't know Donghyuck sober, he knows him enough to know that he is a lot less rough than he pretends to be.</p><p>That is why he isn’t surprised when Donghyuck leans over him, explodes into Mark's version like a firecracker, and leans down to press a kiss to Mark's sweaty forehead, warm and tender and gentle. Everything Mark has ever wanted.</p><p>"Be careful," he whispers, lips dragging over Mark's skin, his hand tugging at Mark's hair one more time before he's gone completely.</p><p>Mark closes his eyes and keeps them shut. He falls asleep to the music that blasts into the bathroom when Donghyuck opens the door to leave and doesn't shut it after him.</p><p>When he opens his eyes again, it is to Jaemin's face, sleep-soft but twisted with worry.</p><p>"Again, Mark?" he says, his hands still shaking Mark's shoulders to make sure he's properly awake.</p><p>"Stop that," Mark mumbles, his voice rough and almost gone, mouth tasting like hell. "I'm dizzy. You gonna make me puke."</p><p>"You're not dizzy, you're hungover," Jaemin rolls his eyes, his hand coming up to cradle Mark's nape gently. "You know I don't care if you spend the night here, but move to my bed, for fuck's sake. I don't know what weird thing you have for the bathroom floor, but you're gonna break your neck if you keep falling asleep here," he says, concern dripping into every word as he digs his fingers into the sore muscles of Mark's neck.</p><p>"Too drunk to walk," Mark shrugs him off, closing his eyes tightly now that he's becoming awake enough to feel the headache creeping around his temples.</p><p>Jaemin clicks his tongue, running his fingers through Mark's hair once before he finally pulls away. "It's already three in the afternoon, but there's breakfast downstairs if you feel up for it," he says, patting Mark's cheek twice. "There's aspirin, too."</p><p>Once Mark manages to push himself to his feet, he looks down at the half-empty pink bottle that's on the bathroom floor, the butt of a joint lying there next to it, grey ash over white tile, dirty footprints leading to the bathtub—the only pieces of evidence that last night wasn't a fever dream. He turns his back to the scene and drags his feet to the kitchen as slowly as he can.</p><p>His head pounds with each step he takes and he feels heavy all over, his muscles pulled so tight that even the smallest movements make him wince in pain. He feels gross, too. He's sticky with sweat and something else, his skin itching with the memory of a touch he can't wait to scrub off in the shower. His mouth is stale and dry, throat sore and stinging. Once he flops onto one of the kitchen chairs to eat the soggy cereal Jaemin prepared for him, each spoon tastes like dust.</p><p>He only feels strong enough to walk home after swallowing two aspirins, but Jaemin stops him when he's got his shaky hand wrapped around the doorknob.</p><p>"Party this Saturday," he says, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. "You're coming, right?"</p><p>Mark tightens his grip on the knob, runs his tongue over his dry lips, chasing the taste of cheap alcohol and weed and kisses. He thinks, <em> I have to quit</em>.</p><p>But then, Jaemin smirks like a secret and says, "Donghyuck's gonna be there."</p><p>And if there’s someone out there strong enough to quit dreaming, Mark would love to know their secret.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>just a short plotless thing before i drop another longfic on yall adsfdsg kudos and comments are appreciated!! thank you for reading &lt;3</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/tiniemarks">twt</a>  //  <a href="https://curiouscat.me/tiniesung">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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